In spite of con crud

SCRIPTURE 4

Sometimes they whisper when I'm half asleep

secrets. I know they're gone beyond recall

yet drowsing…It coheres, I see it all.

The high empyrean, the abyss deep,

reasons for death and sin and love and pain

why angel snores break crystals into dust

why we should never question only trust.

My foot cramps slightly, I awake again

My dead and all that certainty is grit

corner of eye that finger pokes. It stings.

Sleep flees, takes with it all dream's wonder things

Mind like the body needs a daily shit.

Visions are heaven poison in our food

fast us to fever, tears and sweat of blood.

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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